“Samuel! Wow. I’m impressed, man! I see you’ve brought back a ton of food and fresh water this time. Where did you get all of that? [data lost]. Oh…so there are other camps of survivors plundering each other? [data lost]. No, I get you had to kill the attackers…they were strong. Hmm. Take me to the area. I want to see it for myself.” - McArthur, The Lost Diaries, Vol. I.
The sound of the bustling, early morning populace increased with the wind streaming out of the Great Void as Clover followed Tamara through the dirty alley streets. Grime and rodent problems were rampant, yet she noticed wild cats and dogs on the prowl, looking for meals in the rubbish; the town had its own ecosystem.
Only specific parts of Hollow Veil appeared to house the majority of traffic, which made sense since this world was far less casual about how they went about their days—every action was taken to earn food and shelter—play was few and far between; although, she had seen a few kids finding a chance to have their fun, but it couldn’t be compared to how things had been.
Reverting her outfit to the plain gray attire Lily had given her to not draw attention to herself, Clover rolled her neck a little, uncomfortable being in public while swapping outfits like some kind of children’s show.
Ultimately, it only lasted a second, her garments were replaced by the shimmering icy-blue and royal-purple light that shockingly didn’t cause a commotion; she’d expected a little surprise from those walking around them, at the very least.
Tamara took slight interest in Clover’s transformation, pausing for a moment and tilting her hooded neck to the side a little. “Oh, so you have Full Armament... Good to know.”
The woman’s back faced Clover as she took slow, even breaths to continue analyzing the unique atmosphere around the mysterious figure, trying to understand what she was doing.
Even using her advanced perception, it was difficult to accurately track her movements; there was something peculiar about the way Tamara’s body interacted with gravity, which stemmed from her unusual power.
The mask Tamara wore was solid—Clover was sure—which meant the woman had some kind of sensory ability to understand her environment, or she was missing something. There weren’t any heat signatures or machines anywhere on her body that she could detect that would indicate robotics; as far as Clover could tell, she was entirely organic.
If there was anything that snatched her notice, it was the faint transevil-like scent her outfit had; it wasn’t the woman herself but the fabric she wore.
Clover stayed a few feet behind her, keeping pace. “That comment makes me assume my weapon isn’t the only thing I can project my powers into to access enhancements...such as your clothing?”
“You can ask whatever question you want when we get to our destination,” the mysterious woman chuckled, motioning for Clover to the adjacent street. “I guarantee you we’ll have more information than whatever the SPU has been feeding you.”
Only seven elderly men populated the curved road they’d moved to, but all of their focus slid right past Tamara to Clover; the odd invisibility seemed to have left her, which was likely the woman seeing how much she’d noticed.
The men leaned in to mutter to one another around a barrel that had been set ablaze in the very dim morning light.
“Did ya see her hair, Terry?”
“Mmh...not many be havin’ that length, eh?”
“Aye, Minra, ya think she’s from Talon? They got those richer folk, I hear.”
“Naa,” the first muttered, “not the length, fool...look at that color. Reminds me of the Emberfield days... Heh, didn’t know how good we had it. Huh?”
Clover didn’t know what they could be doing other than possibly just burning junk; she didn’t think it was that cold for them to have the blankets around their shoulders while beside the fire, yet she’d heard as people aged, they had issues keeping warm.
Tamara brought them into another alley, and Clover lost track of their hushed conversation, returning her focus to her guide while reflecting on their comments.
I may have rare platinum-blonde hair, but there’s a woman dressed in black from head to foot in front of me—wearing a mask, for Rosa’s sake—why didn’t they even react to that?
She couldn’t deny the mysterious woman was entirely human; she smelled no different than any other average person, excluding the strange aura of power she produced. At the same time, she’d recently discovered her senses could be fooled by a rassi, which wasn’t encouraging.
Clover debated on everything she’d discovered about the structure and state of this new world; her views were broadening by the hour, and something simple, like three sources of power—Void, rassi, and transevil—were becoming muddled with various other roots Melissa and Lily hadn’t mentioned.
Tamara’s powers aren’t close to how spirit users, rassi, or even transevil make me feel...the mannequins themselves were a new concept. Is the information just not available to me yet because I haven’t joined the SPU? Every new person I meet gives me another reason to distrust people…
The mysterious woman’s energy wasn’t unappealing, Clover reasoned, tracing the invisible force around her figure with a critical eye; it just felt less nutritious and required more work to process than it was worth.
Following the alley behind a few buildings currently in the state of restoration, Clover looked up at the work being done; the sound of construction work was beginning to fill the crisp, early morning air. Again, everyone they passed only centered on her as if she were alone.
“Something you want to say?” Tamara asked, not turning or slowing her pace as they entered the main road, the bustle of people moving about their business proving exactly what Clover expected.
Increasing her stride, Clover walked beside Tamara; at that moment, everyone’s gaze slid right past her, and the crowd parted to let them by as they continued to their destination. “Do you have mind control abilities?”
She could imagine a smile on the woman’s lips while stopping in front of a crosswalk with several other people, all wearing the same mass-produced gray clothing. “Heh-he, what gives you that impression?”
Clover rolled her eyes. “Are you really going to make me spell it out—the second I went beside you, I entered this...what would you call it—a perception field, I suppose—becoming invisible. Your powers give you psychic abilities—can you read people’s minds, too?”
It was an uncomfortable thought, yet she didn’t feel threatened; what did she know that needed hiding? If anything, she was a sponge soaking up information, not throwing it out.
Tamara snickered, her gloved hand coming to her mask as they followed the crowd across the street to enter yet another branching alley. “No, but it’s flattering to know you think so highly of me.”
She gestured to the groups parting around them. “A portion of my energy can affect the mind but on a much more subtle and less controlled level; I can generate a fractured illusion of myself into reality and decrease my axiomatic presence to those I’m around—only humans, of course—rassi and transevil function on an entirely different wavelength.”
Her mask tilted in her direction. “As do spirit users; although, considering what data I have, heh, that isn’t all you are. I look forward to learning more about you as we work together, Clover.”
Blue eyes narrowing, Clover let the conversation die. So, even humans can gain powers. She uses mental and light-warping abilities to evade notice and appears to have some kind of telekinesis... To think such fantasies fifteen years ago would become a reality today.
Breaking away from the throng, Tamara took them into another alley, and Clover noticed she seemed to be bypassing cameras. One individual snatched her notice, though, causing her to stop at the mouth of the corridor the mysterious woman was guiding her down.
“Something wrong?” Tamara questioned, hands shifting in her coat pockets while backtracking to her side.
Across the street, in the alleyway they’d just come from, floated a woman with the same rare hair color as Clover’s; an intricate silver and black metal headpiece wrapped around her head, holding most of her silky locks together and masking her eyes and forehead.
She wore a fitted, high-neck black dress with elegant symbolism of the Rosa faith stitched in silver above the chest of the full-length gown. Sleeves covered her arms, and a cloak wrapped around her shoulders and back. More silver stitching fell from her abdomen to her thighs in an arc, and a long, jeweled necklace hung between her breasts.
The woman wore a serene smile that seemed natural to her full lips while illuminated argent fortune-telling cards of some kind rotated at an angle around her shapely form. In her cupped hands at her front was a white flame flickering between her delicate fingers.
Clover blinked, and she was gone; not a trace of her presence had once touched her other senses. “Tamara...did you see that masked white-haired woman?”
“Ah,” Tamara chuckled, “that weird woman. I did not, but that is not surprising... So I wasn’t wrong to invest time in scouting you out. Shion—The Chronicler—is a figure powerful spirit users have spoken to me of in the past. I suspect you’ll see her from time to time, but I cannot tell you her purpose; I know her only by name.”
“Hmm…”
Clover turned around to indicate she was ready to continue. She couldn’t be sure if this was a ploy by Tamara and her associates to make her believe in their information or not; for all she knew, Tamara might have somehow been able to impress it upon her mind because only her sight was able to identify the woman.
From there, they went two more streets, taking an odd, zig-zagging route until yet another mystery stopped Clover dead in her tracks, eyes zoning out.
“My,” Tamara sighed, shifting her stance to face her, “aren’t you the mistrustful type? I can’t blame you—respect it, in fact—what’s caught your notice now?”
Clover didn’t respond, looking up at the roof of the buildings they were passing between; two energy signatures had met in this alley before heading into a cellar entrance three meters ahead of them.
Throwing everything else running through her mind aside, Clover bent her knees and jumped to the nearby wall, using it as leverage to ping-pong up to the roof. She landed on the left side of the five-story building, Tamara rising much more casually to meet her, yet again defying gravity.
“I’m interested,” Tamara giggled, landing beside her to shift posture again. “What is so important you came rocketing up here?”
Clover breathed in deeply, feeling pressure hit her chest at the realization of what she was sensing; given what she knew, it could only be one of three individuals, and the timing brought two to mind.
A hard lump dropped down Clover’s throat, a quake running down her spine. “Is this meeting location in that cellar you were guiding us toward?”
“Yes?” Tamara asked, tone swiftly falling octaves to take on a more serious attitude. “Can you detect some kind of problem?”
Clover’s serpent, seafoam-blue irises shifted to the opposite building. “Did you entertain Ivan or Wilfred—the SPU 4-star general—a little over a week ago? Also, why would they be meeting with someone that has a similar smell to the mannequins?”
She paused, taking a second to further analyze the energy. “It’s not a perfect match—in fact, it’s mostly human—but the power is very close to the mannequins...just at a much higher level than anything I’ve come into contact with. You can see why I’m questioning things?”
Tamara was lax and unperturbed while standing beside her, staring at seemingly nothing; she didn’t immediately comment, choosing to survey the area.
Waiting for an answer, Clover’s fingers closed into a fist at the realization she’d come to upon interacting with the lingering Spirit Force.
Is it Ivan or Wilfred? Hmm... I can’t tell, but without a doubt, they’re stronger than me, and considering Ivan’s a Class-4 spirit ruler and Wilfred is a Class-5 spirit master, it should go without saying. Although this mannequin thing—no, it’s not the same, and a male—he also smells far more human than the mannequins. Even this person is stronger than me…
Her teeth pressed together at the unsettling revelation. I can grow, though. This unusual force Ivan or Wilfred met with isn’t a mannequin, but they’re somehow related. I need to be prepared.
The cloaked woman beside her finally released a soft hum. “I don’t use this location often, but other associates do... Are you sure it was Ivan or Wilfred... How can you be positive?” she asked suspiciously, gloved hand coming up to cup her chin. “You weren’t even close to exiting the Great Void when the two came here.”
“How it tastes and smells,” Clover responded, now facing Tamara while folding her arms under her chest; the sharp wind was pressing her dress against her legs, yet the woman’s cloak didn’t flutter to the elements. “I can’t tell who, but the potency of the Spirit Force makes me believe it couldn’t be anyone else, considering I heard they were here not too long ago. What about the mannequins?”
Tamara waited a time before giving an answer. “Mmh...I cannot say. I wasn’t in Hollow Veil during that time. It is certainly something I will investigate, though, and if we become partners, I am willing to give and take,” she snickered.
“You appear to have very…” she paused, her mask tilting down before returning to Clover’s face, as if sizing her up, “acute senses...the likes of which no spirit user I’ve done business with in the past have exhibited. Heh, well, consider me impressed. Shall we continue the exchange, or are you backing out?”
This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.
Not particularly enjoying the prospect of just letting the revelation pass but figuring there wasn’t much else to do about it, Clover sighed. “I...suppose.”
“Excellent!” she chimed, clapping her hands.
Clover hopped down from the building, falling the full five stories to land on her feet while managing her dress; she really was superhuman.
Tamara followed, lightly touching down before leading her the rest of the way. She sensed two humans inside and another that caught her by surprise—a mixture of rassi and human—he’d entered recently.
Giving Tamara a weary frown as she opened the door and gestured for her to proceed, Clover’s lips tightened; the woman’s previous comment about not being a rassi and her reply about judging by actions came back to mind.
“We should only be waiting for one more individual, but we can start with a brief introduction. Everyone here has done business with one another, but we like using masks—it just feels more...secretive that way,” she giggled.
“Mhm,” Clover grunted; she certainly was somewhat eccentric, and given how the populace viewed rassi, she was sure this would be an interesting meeting.
Stepping into the large, dimly lit room, Clover’s gaze instantly darted to each individual spread across it.
The half-rassi man garbed in an unusual clothing style immediately snatched her attention, bringing back the insult some of the women had uttered—rassi lover—she assumed this was the result of the union.
He wore a foreign coat with the hood pulled over his face, yet it couldn’t hide the man’s flaming hair that seemed to be fashioned into a mohawk and burning lines under his glowing, yellow eyes. The fabric he wore seemed to be crafted from transevil parts because it withstood the heat.
He wore a tight black one-piece underneath his dark-gray pants, cut off below the knees and pulled up to his core. The braided thread tied around his waist was pulled into a double bow, acting as a belt while his bright eyes were dulled by some affix within the cloth hood—it was difficult to penetrate the veil—even for Clover’s enhanced eyesight—to see the smug smirk on the man’s dark-skinned face.
Tamara introduced them after closing the door and standing beside her.
“I suspect you already knew there was a half-rassi in the mix, given what you’ve just told me about your senses. That’s Ronan, heh, don’t let his looks deceive you, he’s actually less than thirteen years old, but rassi develop much faster than humans.”
She could feel Ronan’s smiling eyes appraising her; his voice was more along the lines of a man in his mid-twenties, and he had a Western accent that emphasized specific words. “Well, well, looks like ya might have found a keeper, Tamara,” he whistled, “girl’s got power; I’ll give her that. Ya sure she’s not gonna go on and drag me in?”
“Will you?” Tamara asked, turning her lilting tone to Clover.
Ronan’s eyes widened in fright, bravado falling a few levels. “Aye! Aye! Let’s not joke around, you infernal woman!”
Clover’s full lips curved while sliding her tongue across them, and she placed a hand on her hip; Erin, the Class-2 Earth Support spirit user that had been with Melissa when she’d fallen out of the Great Void, could have stomped the half-rassi.
“I’m more likely to eat you than turn you in.”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” a thin, nervous, black-haired girl wearing a motorcycle helmet muttered, jumping forward with her arms open. “Ronan’s not a bad rassi!”
Tamara waved a hand dismissively. “He-he! She’s only joking, Yumi...right, Clover?”
The helmet’s tint couldn’t hide her face from Clover’s eyes. Yumi had dark-brown hair and amber eyes; she had glasses underneath the helmet.
“I’m only half-joking,” Clover mused.
“And what can all of you do for me?” Clover asked, turning her focus to a brown-haired man wearing a simple black face mask.
His light-purple eyes had followed their entrance, but he’d remained silent beside the back wall. Her gaze slid over his brown, long-sleeve shirt and pants, taking note of the shell necklace that indicated he enjoyed more of a seaside life.
Every one of them seemed out of place for Hollow Veil and would stick out like a sore thumb.
Tamara cleared her throat, pointing to the dark brown-haired girl. “Yumi creates the blueprints for the weapons and armor that I craft, personalizing it to your unique style; by the way, I know she looks young, but she’s actually twenty-four and a Class-0 spirit user.”
“Mhm!” Yumi’s helmeted head bobbed up and down, hands held tightly at her front. “Eh—Tamara, why’d you have to add that I’m a Class-0... It’s embarrassing... I know I can’t really produce any Spirit Force, but I can sense it! I can’t wait to see how your—”
A new presence entered Clover’s observable field, causing her to jump forward, pivot, and call the Viper Blade; it had come from above, yet, by the speed, it couldn’t be a human.
“Oh! Uh, I didn’t, heh, quite mean it like that…” Yumi trailed off, yet Clover’s ears barely registered the girl’s words; instead, her heart skipped a beat as the taste of the energy registered—it was whoever met with Ivan or Wilfred.
“Heh, I’m assuming our next guest will be joining us soon?” Tamara whispered in an unsure tone, hands returning to her pockets. “Although, I can’t see why you’d be so jumpy.”
Clover swallowed the saliva that had gathered in her mouth. Clearly, Tamara had no clue how dangerous this individual was because she wasn’t sure if she could match up to the force she was sensing.
“A...bizarre reaction,” Ronan muttered, muscles tense and ready to run.
She didn’t respond, keeping her senses trained on the figure slowly walking around the railing to descend the steps. When he opened the door, a well-built man entered, wearing a full white mask with two roses carved into the material.
His body was entirely covered by a black cloak, using similar material as Ronan’s, which blocked her vision of even his hair color.
What was worse, Clover soon realized she couldn’t actually sense the man’s current energy from his body, only the lingering amount that he’d released not too long ago; he could be far more powerful than she initially thought.
His deep voice resonated in the tense atmosphere. “Well...has something I’ve done offended you? If so, I apologize. Tamara, is there something I’m missing?”
The mysterious woman gave a short shrug. “No idea. Are you sure you’re alright about continuing, Clover? I understand if we’re a bit too shady, heh, I mean, look at this guy!” she motioned at the newcomer. “He screams murderer! Am I right?”
“Aww, you’re not cute at all, Tamara,” the man said in a similarly light tone. “In any case, allow me to introduce myself..”
Shutting the door behind him, the man lifted his gloved hands to remove his mask and pull back his hood to reveal a handsome blond young man with hazel eyes.
He gave her a dashing smile, flashing his teeth. “Hello, my name is Tyler, and I’m the CEO of Eclipse Banking, which happens to also own CAT Corp—the creators of the Portal Transport System, or PTS for short.”
Clover was taken aback by his sudden jovial introduction and status; everyone besides Tamara sighed and removed their masks as Tyler continued to prattle on.
“I know, I know,” he chuckled, holding up his hands before running one through his thick, pulled-back hair, “horrible name, but what can I say? The previous owners of CAT were terrible at it!”
Gesturing to himself, he said, “I’m your connection to the Banking System that will bypass the SPU’s oversight—if you wish to gain some form of independence, that is. I also have very exclusive information regarding high-level spirit users’ powers that you’ll likely not hear for some time which we can trade for.”
Clover’s stance slowly fell as Tyler motioned to each of the other members. “You’ve met Tamara, of course... She’s an old woman that likes to think she’s young, hip, and spry,” he muttered in a dull tone upon turning to her.
“Suck your own wrinkly jewels,” Tamara sniffed, flipping the bird at him. “I’m only thirty-four.”
“Better than sucking yours,” Tyler chuckled.
The masked woman leveled a long look at him while saying, “As this uncultured old man said, he is the banker of our group—it was Eclipse Banking that stabilized the economy after McArthur arrived and brought us back into the fight—he’s basically our launderer.”
He gave her a half-smile and a salute. “Helps when you own the bank!”
“What about me?!” Ronan huffed, arms crossing as he scowled at Tyler. “You’re dowsin’ my flame!”
“Impossible with that much hot air!” Tyler scoffed, waving his hand. “We’ll get to you, Ronan, but you’re kind of the final process of the operation.”
Ronan huffed, putting his hands behind his back and leaning against the wall; he used his hood to separate his flaming locks to not start a fire. “Tch, you guys are always disrespectin’ me!”
Tamara’s tone lightened again. “No, darling, you’re super important! Tyler’s just saying without the item, what are you going to tune?”
“Humph…”
The woman turned her concealed face back to Clover as she calmly listened; it didn’t seem like an act. “You slay transevil and rassi, collect parts—basically, your part is to be the collector! Yumi’s is to examine your Spirit Armaments and develop blueprints that I can follow in crafting those parts, and Ronan, over there…”
He peaked up, puffing out his chest and grinning, but the air in his lungs soon expelled in dismay as Tamara said, “Is there to waste all your hard-earned money!”
“Yo! That’s totally uncalled for; I do my job so good!” he balked. “You’re the money-grubbin’ old lady that takes a part of everyone’s cut—old bat, diggin’ around everyone’s pockets!”
“Well,” she snickered with a helpless shrug, “I am the one that organized this whole little deal. Everyone agreed when they joined, so I’m not taking advantage of you—it’s always been consensual!”
She turned back to Clover. “I craft a beautiful weapon that Yumi perfectly designs to fit you, and Ronan here,” she playfully clicked her tongue, “tries his hardest to tune it up and make it better... The problem is, the parts needed to accomplish that tuning are expensive, and he-he-he, I have to craft them!” she exclaimed.
Yumi frowned, pushing up her glasses and looking a bit frustrated. “Yeah, but that means you get so much more business, Tamara; it’s really not fair!”
The man that hadn’t spoken thus far chuckled, leaning his chair back against the wall to balance on two legs. “Business isn’t always fair, darlin’.”
He gave Clover a short wave. “Name’s Parker, and I’m the Trade Union connection. Anythin’ ya need to part with, or old dismantled junk from your previous gear Yumi breaks down ya need dumpin’, I’m your guy. Ah, and if ya need anyin’, ahem, unique or even legit, give me a call; I can find it,” he winked.
“At a price,” Yumi and Ronan muttered in unison.
Tyler folded his arms across his broad chest, still smiling. “So, what do ya say, Clover; how’d ya like to get stronger where the only thing we’re worried about is the price tag and parts—no political games like the SPU plays.”
Clover had to admit it was very tempting, but there was one thing she had to confirm. Goosebumps tickled her arms as she turned to walk down the nearby hallway, heading for a room at the end of the hall. “I’d like to talk to you in private, Tyler.”
“Hmm?” Tamara asked, deep curiosity in her throat, but Clover made her exit without a backward glance, expecting him to follow. “What did you do to her, Tyler? She’s been on you since the moment you showed up. Something we should know about?”
“Oh?” Tyler hummed, glancing at his associates as they gave each other looks. “Well, not that I’m aware of... Eh, yeah, sure, Clover...I don’t see the problem.”
He tossed Tamara his mask, which seemed to instantly float into the air as it entered a specific part of her energy field. “Hey, hold that for a second.”
Tamara’s annoyed tone followed his back. “I’m not your coat hanger, Tyler!”
“Might as well be with how many coats you own,” he chuckled, shutting the door behind them.
Fortunately, a table with six chairs was in the middle; the glass on the left side of the room was broken, but no one was outside. Taking a seat and placing the Viper Blade on the hardwood, Clover gestured to the opposite side of the table.
“Please, sit... I have a few questions.”
Tyler complied, his posture and tone practically an open book. “I know I stand out a bit as a CEO of the largest bank in the world,” he laughed, “but I have my reasons for taking part in this deal.”
“Mhm,” Clover grunted, “I’m sure you do... Why don’t you tell me what you really are because we both know you’re not entirely human—something your friends in the other room don’t seem to be aware of.”
Tyler’s pleasant face creased with a soft sigh. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his forehead and cracked his neck; when they opened again, there was a weary edge to his now amber irises.
“Well, you’re a far more intuitive spirit user than I took you for, Clover... Isn’t this awkward? Now, how should we go about this?”
She hadn’t expected him to just come out and admit to it; sitting seemed like a waste now. Getting up, she pointed her weapon at him. “First, I want to be sure of something.”
In a flash of teal color, edged by purple, she shoved the table to the side to slide forward, using Serpent Strike to glide across the frost-coated concrete floor in her passing.
Tyler’s outfit vanished in a madder red glow, and for a split second, digital-like disassembled pieces of his new outfit materialized around his frame, coming together into a noble’s coat, pants, and boots as he calmly waited to meet her swift attack.
In a similar fashion, two slim, disassembled short swords appeared in his hands before coming together into gem-based weapons.
He casually flicked his wrist, discharging a depressed groan while almost lazily sending a single blade up to deflect her SF attack.
Converting to energy, Clover phased through him to strike his back, but he didn’t make any threatening moves; in the next second, her tip was biting through the back of his empty chair—he was behind her, blade to her neck.
She wanted to freeze at the terrifying realization. I didn’t even sense him move…
Energy phasing once again to strike him from behind, she carefully watched a red glow surround his frame, and in a flash of expert movements, he was behind her again—Tyler wasn’t even phasing.
His blade at her throat, he puffed out another sigh. “If I continue to use energy like this, detection satellites are going to pick up on it. Can we stop and talk, Clover?”
A lump formed in Clover’s throat as the edge was kept a hair’s breadth away from her skin—she didn’t want to believe it—she was outclassed.
Tucking her head in a little to gain slack, she swallowed and cleared her throat. “I would like an explanation... Mmh, and I assume that’s the type of items Tamara crafts? You aren’t a spirit user—so, what are you, and how is that possible?”
His weapons vanished in the reverse manner they’d formed, clothing reverting in a similar way. Tugging the table back into place and dropping into his chair, Tyler glared at the door, fingers steepling underneath his strong chin as he rested his elbows atop the wood.
“That...unfortunate test of yours has soured something I quite enjoyed... Such is life, I suppose.”
Clover hesitantly followed his example, releasing the Viper Blade; she was more focused on his deception than the deals his group was offering. “If I caused you inconvenience, it is by no fault of my own. Your comrades called me here—can you see how it looks in my eyes?”
She crossed her legs, holding her hands in her lap to stop the slight shakes she knew they’d produce if she let them; he was strong—very strong—yet he allowed transevil and other creatures to wreck the countryside without dealing with the problem.
Clover had no reservations about his strength; Tyler could eviscerate Isngneal, yet he allowed the SPU and Hollow Veil’s citizens to suffer the beast’s rampage. Why? There was another possibility that tugged at her mind, though.
Is his equipment the thing that makes him better than me? If I had the same modifiers... No, perhaps he even has Brooches, given what I saw.... There’s so much I need to learn, and it proves not only spirit users can make use of these advanced items these people can create.
Clearly, the spirit users of the SPU knew about him, but again, she was left to pick up the scattered pieces in the dark with the mystery and secrets that had surrounded her life.
“All I want is the truth,” Clover stated. “I have no qualms with joining your group, to be honest; in fact, it could work for everyone’s benefit, yet I need answers.”
Tyler’s solemn amber eyes appraised her for a moment before a long stream of air shot through his throat; it was then Clover saw Shion hovering in the corner of the room, watching them.
“I can give you a few answers, but I don’t do things for free, Clover. We can help each other to get answers, or you can drop it... What’s your decision?”
Clover’s fingers tightened against each other. “I have no issues working with you so long as we fall under a general umbrella of shared morality... If I am to work with you, I need to know where you fall on that spectrum.”
He pursed his lips, acknowledging the statement with a thoughtful nod. “I can respect that... Well, why don’t we come up with some complicated questions and see where our morality falls?”